The first of a new vampire romance series, a sequel to the Awakened by Blood trilogy.

Mihaela, a fearless vampire hunter secretly haunted by loneliness and childhood tragedy, finds it difficult to adjust to the new world order where vampires are not always the bad guys. She's taking a much needed vacation in Scotland when she sees a little boy being chased through the streets of Edinburgh. Rescuing him brings bigger problems - two vampires from her past: Gavril, who killed her family; and the reclusive and troubled Maximilian, gifted Renaissance artist and one-time overlord of the most powerful undead community in the world. Maximilian once saved her life and now needs that favor returned.

The earth moves for Mihaela in more ways than one. From Scotland to Budapest and Malta, she races against time to prevent a disastrous, vampire-induced earthquake and save an innocent yet powerful child – all while fighting a dreadful attraction to Maximilian, her only ally, whom she can’t afford to trust. For Maximilian, the hunter becomes a symbol of renewed existence, as he struggles to accept his past and rediscovers his appetite for blood and sex - and maybe even happiness.

*

(Here, Maximilian is dying after a drunken fight and Mihaela has made a deal with him - her blood to save his existence, in return for his help in locating her family's killer)

He lay perfectly still, watching her every move. Despite his tattered, modern clothes, he looked like some decadent, talented Renaissance youth. Which he probably had been.

Mihaela sank onto the bed beside him, and, willing her hand not to shake, she placed the point of the stake over his heart. Still, he didn’t move. It was possible that he couldn’t.

“I’ve killed many vampires,” she warned him, and wished her voice didn’t sound so husky.

A spark of humor, so faint as to be almost indistinguishable, lightened his pain-wracked eyes. “Then you have another advantage. I’ve never killed a hunter.”

Watching him for any sign of sudden attack, she leaned slowly over him, angling her head to offer him her throat. As his face disappeared from her vision, her tingling skin seemed to grow tighter. Since he had no breath, there was no warning before he touched her throat. She couldn’t suppress her gasp or her jerk of surprise. But still he didn’t move, just waited for her to settle and return to the same position. Again, his cool lips touched her neck. Shards of fear sprayed outward to every nerve-ending she possessed. At least she called it fear, because even that was easier to bear.

Tensing even further, she curled her fingers into a fist, around the air, around the stake, and waited for the pain of his bite.

Concentrate on the stake. It’s all that could save your life. Her neck prickled with sensation. It was his tongue, licking over her vein.

Oh Jesus Christ, help me…

“It will numb the pain,” he said unexpectedly, and the movement of his lips against her skin made her shudder. She managed to nod, and then his lips closed more strongly, like a lover’s kiss. It was hard to keep still, to ignore the damp heat forming between her thighs. His teeth grazed her vein, and bit.

Her mouth opened without permission, but at least her cry was silent. There wasn’t even pain to speak of, just the shock of his teeth sinking into her, and then the faint, strangely sensual pull of his mouth against her skin, scattering novel sensations through her entire body. Her vein seemed to contract; she could feel the blood being drawn out of her and into him. It was weird, cold, intriguing…and achingly pleasurable. His lips moved on her skin, his tongue lapped, his suck deepened and strengthened; and everything inside her, her very womb, seemed to pulse under the insistent tug of his mouth.

A tiny sound gurgled deep in her throat. She clung on to the stake, as if to sanity, while her free hand clutched at the quilt and then at his shirt for support. And then, it seemed, it was over.

The draw of blood stopped; his teeth detached from her throat, and he raised his head to examine her. His face seemed cloudy; his gray eyes had darkened and yet somehow blazed almost silver with a lust that drove straight between her legs.

“Hunter blood is sweet,” he whispered. “You taste…good.”

Without warning, he pushed her down onto the pillow and loomed over her. Panting, she tried to reposition the stake, but he was too close, and he gave her no time.

“More,” he said huskily and returned to her throbbing throat.

Since he half lay across her, heart to heart, there was little she could do. Her stake lay on its side between them, useless until she could draw it free and plunge it into his back. Except, God help her, she didn’t want to.

The slow, delicious pull of his mouth on her throat began again, but stronger this time and more rhythmic. It couldn’t have been more different from the act of violence she’d witnessed earlier when he’d killed a vampire almost instantly with his bite. The strong, slow, beats of his undead heart vibrated through her chest, as if speaking to her own, galloping pulse. Cords of pleasure seemed to have formed between his mouth and her sensitized breasts, squashed beneath the hardness of his chest, and all other pleasure points of her body. Between her legs was throbbing, aching lust. She began to move under his mouth, rubbing her breasts against him, circling her hips in search of the comfort she needed deep inside her.

She couldn’t just give in to this urge to do nothing, to reach for more. It wasn’t in her nature to surrender, but she had never imagined it would be this hard to resist being slaughtered. Forcing herself, she dragged her hand and stake free from between their bodies. She found his back, and through his T-shirt, counted his vertebrae with her fingertips until she found the position of his heart.

His back, his whole body moved, undulating with the passage of her fingers, as if he welcomed her attentions as caresses. Delicately, she placed the pointed end of the stake...